4 posts categorized "MO ROCCA"

Mo Rocca gives up his first serious interview about being gay here. He's been out, but never really talks about it so flies under the gaydar. As you can see from the above Broadway Bares pic I took in '09, he's not only a stealth gay guy, he's also a stealth stone fox.

**If anyone knows the names of any of the unnamed guys in my post/pictures/videos, comment away!**

Broadway Bares all.

Last night wasBroadway Bares 19.0, the 19th annual version of an event founded by Jerry Mitchell (who I interviewed last year when I was minding Towleroad for a week) featuring Broadway's hottest dancers and some well-known names performing in broad burlesque skits with original choreography set to familiar songs. The point—other than who wouldn't want to pay $50 to see the hottest bodies in New York next to naked?—is to raise cash for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS. Each Broadway Bares installment has a theme, this year being the Internet, hence the title "Click It."

Keep reading for more like this.

I went with my friends Jason and Anthony and met up with their friends Phil and Guy (pictured—aren't they so cute?). After basically holding El Azteca on 9th Avenue hostage for hours on end followed by a brief appearance at Vlada that would have been considered a cameo if any of us were stars and if Vlada were a Russian expressionist film, we showed up at Roseland only to find the line wrapped all the way around the block. I was literally further back in line than I was for Madonna! So much for the recession keeping gay men from handing over cash in exchange for access to people's underthings.

Highlights from throughout the show.

Once we got in, we migrated to the side, where we were as close to the stage as possible considering our perilously late arrival. This was when I took it upon myself to arrange a quick photo op with Michael Urie from Ugly Betty, who's currently starring in the play The Temperamentals. (The staffer who took the shot took a pic of his own fact first. Cute.)

Though it later turned out that Urie didn't even perform in the show (he just did an ending speech which had been provided to him and which he mock ruefully pointed out was 13 pages in length)—Jason sniffed, "It's Broadway Bares, not Off-Broadway Bares!"—he was still a sweetheart.

Careful—private browsing isn't really private!

Truthfully, the show this year was somewhat lacking compared to last year's more vibrant and creative series of Alice in Wonderland vignettes, mainly because the Internet theme was a weak idea and had to be stretched beyond recognition in order to provide material for just over an hour's worth of numbers. (Pictured, a "surfing" as surfing sketch.)

There are tons of superhot women in the show, too...but notice the crowd's focus.

But there is no denying the good-natured vibe of this show, peopled by a cast of thousands of asses attached to shit-eating grins and, when the night ends and the dancers go into "Rotation" and strip for cash, stuffed with enough money to pay Dolly Parton to abandon Broadway forever.

As always, the aerial portions were the be-all end-all.

Though I think some of us were shocked that the ended as quickly as it did, there were some noteworthy highlights aside from the uniform excellence of its uniformless participants. The best number starred most of the night's best-looking, best-built guys—the Fantasy Football Dancers. "I'm not afraid to admit to a jockstrap fetish," one guy near me said, which is like admitting you like vodka at an AA meeting.

One of the nicest surprises was seeing Norm Lewis from The Little Mermaid in the altogether—nothing little about him.

Allison Janney was pretty hilarious as that annoying Mac color wheel alongside beyond-sexy Matt Skrincosky's PC hourglass, cracking herself up as she randomly pulled out her bepastied breasts one by one and later lampooning her own reputation in 9 to 5 ("poor thing can't sing or dance," people are saying) by shouting that Susan Boyle can't sing.

So, too, was Sutton Foster, who exulted in the freedom this appearance brought, the freedom to sport big hair, a little dress and to say the word "fuck" a lot.

Sutton Foster got carried away by Shrek's Dennis Stowe.

Bares vet Christopher Sieber read us the "what a riot!" act.

The main reason to patronize Broadway Bares is for Rotation, where you're allowed, even encouraged, to approach all your favorite dancers of the night and stuff money into, well, whatever tight spot they'll allow. Most were demure enough to attract dollars in respectable places, like hooked under the waistbands of their Aussiebum boxerbriefs, though a few daring rumpshakers sported jockstraps, which paradoxically provided fewer and more places to slip it to them.

Definitely a stand-out was Jockstrap Boy. Wish I'd brought a roll of quarters.

One of the Fantasy Footballers was definitely a tight end.

The most surprising hottie was writer/satirist Mo Rocca, who had done a cartwheel and high kick onstage, and who had no problem wiggling alongside Broadway's hottest, dancers Nick Adams (he of the Mario Lopez bicep imbroglio) and Spencer Liff.

Nick and Spencer: So cute together.

I was (a lot) like a fat kid with his hand in the cookie jar.

Speaking of Nick, he wound up getting $40 from me; I felt he deserved $20 for the bother and when it was all over he was still my favorite and I hadn't donated nearly enough, hence the repeat. He was a great sport and got on all fours the second time for a chaste spank. You know you've been married 15 years when these things mean so much to you.

There were several others who captured my heart and my ones and fives, as you'll see from the photos and videos.

Highlights from Rotation.

All in all, I had a great time and I'm glad Broadway Bares dances on. They should make this a permanent show on Broadway—I feel like it would attract an audience, which is generally what happens anytime attractive people disrobe let alone anytime talented people gather in a group and sing and dance. I'm thinking this 19th version might have been lacking due to Mitchell's absence (he's working on Catch Me If You Can in Seattle) and the possibility that everyone's saving up to make next year's 20th even more fant-ass-tic.

A word of advice—sell tickets to a pre-show meet-and-greet/photo op. You'll make more money than you've ever made.

Adorkable writer and political satirist Mo Rocca has always tickled my funnybone, but check out this picture I took of him semi-naked (okay, just wearing trunks) and writhing on the stage at last night's Broadway Bares 19.0 and tell me which bone is being tickled. What a ho, Mo!

Seriously, anytime a writer—a writer—can be in such nice shape at age 40, I think a Pulitzer is in order.

The rest of my exhaustive report on last night's festivities will be up later on, with more of Nick Adams than his mother's ever seen.